


Incredibly Gifted Fakers

by Fortem



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Porn, BDSM, Bondage, Caning, Contracts, Derek Is conflicted, Dirty Talk, F/F, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Flogging, Fluff and Humor, Humiliation, Inappropriate Behavior, Jackson is awful at aftercare, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mainly Stiles hitting on Derek, Masturbation, Object Insertion, checklists, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11841675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fortem/pseuds/Fortem
Summary: Stiles desperately needs a new scene partner and Derek desperately needs a job. They may just be able to help each other out, if they remember that this is all supposed to be acting.A Porn Star AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, I absolutely should have been working on other fics, but instead I sat down and wrote most of this in one day. I have every intention of this fic being ridiculously fluffy and corny and smutty. There's also going to be a firm dash of kink in there too. This work has gone entirely unbetaed, so all of my errors are my own.  
> Some background info:  
> Stiles is female because that's how she showed up in my head; she had always been female in this fic.  
> There are no werewolves in this fic.  
> Please, please, please, pay attention to the tags on this fic, I will update them as it goes along, and if you feel that something should be tagged, please let me know.

_Stiles_

The sting on her ass was miserable, the welts ached, and tears stung in the corner of her eyes. The cane hissed once more through the air, striking her inner thighs. She sobbed, desperately trying to stay still. The spreader bar stretched her legs open at her knees and the ropes at her wrists pulled her arms above her head. Her gasping breaths pulled at the ropes constricting her chest. The ropes were soft but tight and difficult to ignore. The cane came down again on the other side. She whimpered, waiting anxiously for the next strike, but it didn’t come. Instead, the cane clattered as Jackson dropped it to the floor. Tears, this time of relief, flooded her eyes anew as Jackson stepped back. She felt his eyes on her, even as she carefully kept her faze on the floor. As soon as Jackson’s dress shoes stepped in front of her, his hand smacked across her face. She flinched back, even as she trained her eyes on that knot on the hardwood floor.

Jackson stepped back, and she heard him painfully slowly undo the zipper. The fabric rustled and Jackson groaned. Stiles had a moment of curiosity before she could hear skin sliding against skin as Jackson jacked off. He moaned again and Stiles kind of wanted to kill him because she knew for a fact that Jackson didn’t make any noise when he was actually about to cum. Just as she thought it, the first, hot wet, stripe of cum streaked across her face.

Stripe after stripe hit her face and she tilted her chin up to greet it, careful to keep her eyes closed. Jackson grunted again as a stripe of cum hit her eyelashes. That was going to really fucking suck. She slowly opened her eyes and let her mouth fall open as if she was in bliss as the camera paused in front of her face.

“Yes,” She sighed heavily, letting her head fall back and licking her lips. “Yes.”

“Cut!”

The towel hit her in the face immediately, despite the fact that her hands were still tied. Someone, not Jackson, undid the spreader bar as someone else undid her wrists and the harness constricting her breasts. Her arms dropped heavily to her sides and two people gently pulled her to her feet. She looked around the set and walked unsteadily to Erika, the wonderful sometimes makeup technician who would be covering the welts on her thighs tomorrow. The blonde wrapped the robe around her quickly. Stiles had forgotten she wasn’t wearing clothes. She rubbed her shoulders gently as Stiles stumbled out of the set. She hurried to her dressing room, which was very intentionally the closest to the set. Her legs shook as she pushed open the door. Her bath was already filled and warmed as she eased her way in. She groaned as the hot water eased her tired muscles. Her knees stung as blood flooded back into the painful tissues. The ropes left soft red marks on her wrists and undersides of her breasts but thankfully, there were no bruises or torn skin. Jackson had fucked that up once, thankfully only the once. She was still shaking and the water didn’t feel warm enough yet. She groaned, curling up into a ball. She really didn’t want to drop today.

Jackson was the only one willing to Dom at the studio. She was the only one willing to sub. Jackson also didn’t believe in aftercare, had it specified in his contract that he didn’t have to provide it.

She was getting a little dizzy when she heard the knock on her door.

“Come in,” She whimpered. Scott slowly nudged open the door, carefully keeping his eyes to the ceiling. She almost wanted to laugh. Scott had seen her naked, even before she went into porn, they had been friends since childhood. Who gave a shit now?

“You can’t keep doing this.” He warned her, with his ‘I’m trying really hard to be serious and sincere’ expression.

“What does that even mean?” She sighed. Of course, she could. She liked her job, it sounded insane but she liked being elite. She liked sex; she even liked kink. She just hated Jackson. She could continue sceneing with him, it was fine, just another side effect of the job. Like the stupid amounts of money, she got paid to do it.

“You know dropping is unhealthy, right? That it can literally lead to death.” Scott reminded her dramatically.

“Stop being so extreme,” She rolled her eyes and shifted her feet in the warm water.

“I’m not being extreme. There’s a reason aftercare is necessary. You drop after every scene,” He stubbornly accused.

“I do not.” She snapped defensively. Sure, she dropped with more frequency than she would have liked but it was hardly every time.

”I got Peter to agree to bring on a new dom,” Scott explained casually.

“What!” She gasped, the water splashing around her as she sat up.

“Jackson has been moaning about wanting to downgrade to other shit anyways,” Scott brushed it off. Stiles knew exactly what that meant. Jackson had wanted to be Lydia’s sub since she got here, but his contract hadn’t permitted it.

“And Peter has said that hell will freeze over before he’d let Jackson just work with Lydia and bring in another Dom,” Stiles reminded him firmly.

“Well, it did,” Scott admitted falteringly.

“What did you do?” Stiles asked slowly, not liking the uneasy look in his eyes.

“Made Peter an offer,” He conceded neutrally.

“Scott…” She pressed slowly.

“One time only deal, a threesome he can promote on his site,” Scott itemized, cringing uncomfortably. Stiles groaned. Scott and Allison had never swapped partners, it was part of their draw to the site. The committed couple that let you peek in through their window, but never touch. 

“You agreed to work with someone other than Allison?” Stiles squeaked ins surprise.

“In addition to, lots of ads, a shit ton of money will come from it, especially when you take into account new registers,” Scott admitted with a shrug. He was underplaying his popularity.

“Jesus Christ, and Allison was okay with this?” Stiles asked in surprise. Scott had been in the industry first, had always been the one more willing to work outside if needed.

“Yeah, Peter offered to let us both choose who we bring in,” Scott shrugged as if it wasn’t a huge concession.

“How generous of him,” Stiles remarked sincerely.

“I know, I honestly think he was considering hiring someone new anyways. Just needed the excuse.” Scott shrugged.

“That your dumbass gave him,” Stiles teased.

“Stiles,” Scott cut her off seriously with a pointed look.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked slowly.

“It’s worth it okay. We all think it’s worth it.” Scott insisted, looking at him seriously. Stiles looked away.

…

_Derek_

              It wasn’t the first time that Peter had requested he drop by his office, though it was the first time that it made Derek nervous. Before, Derek had good reasons for saying no, for brushing Peter off as just a creepy uncle. Now, since Kate had tried to murder his whole family, since Jennifer had turned out to be a literal lunatic, since he had flunked out of college because he was too busy with all of the previous drama, since he had been fired from his job because he could barely get out of bed, he had a reason to be nervous.

              “You want a job,” Peter lead with, pacing behind his desk in an obvious power play.

              “Peter, you’ve offered me a job since I was eighteen, why do think I’ll accept it now?”  Derek groaned. The first job offer had literally come on his eighteenth birthday card.

              “Because you want a job. And, I have the contract you want,” Peter declared confidently, smirking obnoxiously. Derek wasn’t quite sure what was in a porn star’s contract, but he figured it didn’t really matter.

              “Peter, I don’t want to…” Derek started but Peter simple smirked and cut him off.

              “Stella,” He announced simply. Derek was sure that he heard breaks squeal in the distance. If Derek had one consistent feature in the past year of his life, it was the new video with Stella and Jack Gold that got posted every Tuesday and Thursday on Lobos Videos. It was very nice stress relief.

              “What?” He spat out anxiously, trying not to show his panic. 

              “Did you know that our site records IP Addresses?” Peter asked casually. Derek’s stomach swooped.

              “That feels illegal,” He suggested earnestly. Not that he was particularly surprised that Peter would have very little of problem with that.

              “My tech guy earmarked yours,” Peter explained casually. Derek was a little curious if his eyes were still in his head.

              “That definitely feels illegal,” Derek repeated.

              “You end up on her videos more often than anyone else’s,” Peter told him and Derek probably would never have watched porn ever again.

              “Peter! Are you insane? You’re monitoring what porn I watch?” Derek sputtered in protest. Peter only grinned.

              “You’d be working with her.” He offered nonchalantly.

              “What?” Derek asked, suddenly it was very difficult to swallow and his pants seemed a little tight.

              “Exclusively,” Peter repeated calmly.

              “What?” Derek repeated because there was no way this offer was really happening.

              “Jack Gold is a dick,” Peter explained with a sigh, leaning against the front of his desk.

              “Excuse me?” Derek repeated. Jack Gold was the Dom in all of the Stella videos and even Derek admitted that he came off cold in the scenes. But he wasn’t watching for Jack Gold so it had never particularly bothered him.

              “And it’s seriously affecting Stella’s mental health and therefore, her future ability to work. Her friends on my staff have been advocating for me to hire a Dom who isn’t a dick,” Peter explained breezily. Derek had never heard his uncle speak so plainly. Unfortunately, there was a more concerning feature involved. 

              “How the hell do you know that I’m a Dom?” Derek demanded. Sure, he was part of the life, frequented a club or two occasionally, took a sub home every once in a while. Never long enough for them to infiltrate his life, just long enough to scratch the itch. There was no way his uncle should have that information.  

              “I didn’t. I just knew you weren’t a dick, usually. Though, I suppose now I know.” Peter smirked triumphantly and Derek could hit him. He really could. It would probably feel great. He could probably even make it out before security got to him. Though, his hand might hurt. Probably not worth it.

              “What would I do?” Derek asked slowly, reluctantly.

              “I’m sure I don’t have to spell it out to you,” Peter reminded him, raising an eyebrow.

              “I know, stupid question. It’s just-” Derek trailed off. Peter wasn’t wrong; Derek needed a job, badly. His landlord didn’t give a shit about how fucked up his life was; he just wanted his rent.

              “How about this, you sit down with the head of HR, talk about getting yourself the standard contract with specifications that you work with Stella, you meet some people, you get some test shots done, simple stuff.” Peter proposed, moving quickly to the door.  Derek rose uneasily, not sure what to say as he followed Peter through the ecru painted maze of offices and dressing rooms and sets. All the fun stuff took place behind closed, soundproofed doors, but staff still shuffled through the hallway, assistants with headsets, makeup artists with literal tool belts of brushes, and camera men juggling extra lenses.

              Peter deposited him in front of a simple oak door that was neatly labelled with “Lydia Martin: Director of Human Resources.” Peter knocked twice but didn’t wait for an answer before he pushed the door open. Behind the desk sat a beautiful, severe looking redhead. She raised a bored eyebrow.

              “Derek, this is the lovely Lydia. Lydia, this is my nephew, Derek,” Peter introduced casually.

              “Take a seat,” Lydia ordered firmly. Her fingers never stopped typing and her eyes never left Derek; it was a little unnerving. She even looked familiar, even if he couldn’t place her.

              “I have your contract all drawn up, two weeks’ vacation time with an additional two days added every year of employment. Your wages will be set up in the form of royalties, you will earn ten cents for every dollar of gross revenue your videos produce.” Lydia articulated brusquely.

              “How much gross revenue does each video typically make?” Derek asked slowly, struggling to do the math in his head.

              “That’s cute,” Lydia laughed before clarifying, “Your first videos will likely do well for the novelty factor. Then, there will be a drop among people who preferred Jack to you. Then you’ll hopefully develop a following. That’s the best-case scenario.”

              “What’s the worst-case scenario?” Derek questioned uneasily. Lydia released a wiry smile.

              “You get in front of a camera, flip out and we don’t even get a single video out of you,” She answered, with a quirk of her mouth. Derek took a deep breath slowly.  

              “I want a guaranteed flat payment in addition to revenue in case no one likes me,” He announced. Lydia’s fingers finally stopped typing.

              “Excuse me?” She asked, her voice a little shrill, though he’d never say it.

              “Ten cents per dollar in gross revenue and three hundred dollars guaranteed per video,” Derek suggested calmly. He had been a business major after all. 

              “That’s not standard,” Lydia protested, clearly a little flustered.

              “I’m not standard and I have bills to pay,” Derek explained coolly; his student loans were a bitch, especially since he never even got the degree for the trouble. 

              “You have no experience,” Lydia pointed out, clearly on slightly firmer ground now.

              “Not on film, no, but I am a very experienced and well-rounded Dom, which my uncle has admitted you desperately need,” Derek smirked because however much of a train wreck he was personally, he knew he was attractive, knew what he was doing as a Dom. That was the part of the reason he did it in the first place. Lydia smiled slowly and Derek got the feeling that he had just barely passed a test. 

              “You didn’t tell me he was smart,” She looked directly at Peter. Derek glanced over his shoulder to see his uncle merely raise an eyebrow.

              “Is he?” Peter asked, boredom leaking into his tone.

              “There’s a standard bonus of two thousand dollars once you crack a million views,” Lydia added.

              “Sounds good,” Not that Derek really believed he’d ever get that many.  “How often would I have shoots?”

              “We’re planning on keeping the same schedule that Stella had originally, so Sundays and Tuesdays, but we would like to get a few promotional, getting to know you videos,” Lydia smiled and went back to typing.

              “What would that consist of?” He asked, unsure. Peter hadn’t mention that part. Derek was more than fine being the leather pants and occasional arm standing behind the kneeling Stella. “Getting to know you” hadn’t really been expected, or forewarned. He cast a glare over his shoulder at Peter.

              “One or two solo interviews, just to get to know your personality with your clothes on, an interview with both you and Stella, and then probably a solo video to get you comfortable,” Lydia explained matter-a-factly. Derek got the sense that that part was nonnegotiable, no matter how much Derek wanted to believe otherwise.

              “How scripted would the regular videos be?” He asked uneasily.

              “What are you getting at?” Lydia cut through his hesitance.

              “As I said previously, I’m a Dom, that’s my nature, a director shouting at me and forcing me through awful dialogue and forty takes of the same movement won’t go well,” Derek clarified quickly. He had never had anything other than his sub’s limits determine his scenes; he never switched. Taking orders while trying to dominate his subs wouldn’t work.

              “The scenes are generally scripted to protect both actors involved, so prior consent can be properly negotiated,” Lydia pointed out. Derek felt his jaw clench at the veiled accusation. Consent was sacrosanct, not something he would ever fuck with.

              “Of course, I’m not talking about not negotiating scenes with Stella. I simply mean not dictating scenes to me besides broad instructions at the outset. I’m not really an actor; I’m a Dom,” Derek reminded them. There wouldn’t be a whole lot of acting involved, Peter tended to skip cheesy premises anyways.

              “We want certain things, we’ve tested certain things. We know what good porn looks like,” Lydia reminded him firmly, as if he could forget where he was.

              “All I’m asking is that I have some flexibility to plan my scenes,” Derek insisted. He knew what a good, healthy scene progression was supposed to look like. It was the one thing he was good at. He wasn’t fucking around with it.

              “After you prove yourself, you can talk to the writers and make suggestions _. No one_ writes their own scripts,” Lydia pressed on dismissively.

              “I don’t want a script,” Derek clarified with a chuckle.

              “That’s not going to be possible,” Lydia argued firmly.

              “We try it,” Peter broke in, “You do the first video our way, follow the script we give you to a t. The second video, we let you and your costar work out what’s going to happen and we just film it.”

              “You’re trying it?” Lydia asked, surprised laced into her tone as she focused her attention on Peter, her typing coming to a sudden stop.

              “Stella’s an excellent actress and I’d assume my nephew knows what he’s talking about,” Peter offered by way of explanation.

              “You trust them?” Lydia asked, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow climbing up her forehead.

              “When have I ever not been trusting?” Peter asked, mockingly. Even Derek knew the answer to that question. Frankly, he was surprised that Peter was on his side. Maybe it was because Derek hadn’t officially accepted the offer yet.

              “Is that a rhetorical question?” Lydia inquired casually as she went back to typing.

              “You sent for me?” An enthusiastic voice chimed in from the hallway. Peter stepped out of the way as she sprung into the small space. Derek’s mouth went dry because that was Stella. The same Stella who’s kneeling figure he had jacked off to twice a week for almost a year.

              “Hey, Stiles,” Lydia greeted the other woman calmly. _Was that a nickname?_

              “Lovely Lydia, what could I do to bring you pleasure?” Stella asked the red head, her voice dripping with charm. It wasn’t the sultry, desperate voice she used in videos but it didn’t fail to do something to Derek.

              “Give Derek a tour while I finish fleshing out his contract,” Lydia instructed, unfazed by the charm that was causing such problems for Derek. Stella slowly turned to him, noticing him for the first time. Her eyebrows shot to the top of her her face and she very obviously looked him up and down.

              “Please tell me Derek is talent,” She said slowly to Lydia, still staring at him. As if to make her point, she licked her lips. Derek could swear that his cock twitched. 

              “Maybe, we’re still working out the details of his contract but if all goes well, he may just be your new scene partner,” Lydia explained hopefully.

              “Hey Peter, don’t bother with my Christmas bonus this year.”

…

_Stiles_

              Derek was a beautiful man.  He had a jawline that made her want to weep and his dark blue Henley was stretched around beautiful biceps. She would give her right arm to watch him wield a flogger. She had no shame as she looked at him the same way she looked at a burger. He cleared his throat awkwardly and put out his hand.

              “Derek Hale,” He introduced himself firmly. It even seemed like that was his real name. She cocked an eyebrow at Peter thoughtfully. The older man just smiled. Peter was kind of a creep. It wouldn’t really surprise her if he had a small coven of porn stars waiting in the wings that he had been raising since adolescence.

              “Nephew,” Lydia chimed in helpfully.

              “Interesting,” Stiles declared with a head tilt that she had been told was cute.

              “Tour, Stiles,” Lydia reminded her, probably just wanted to kick her out of the office. You know, so she wouldn’t reveal her passionate lust for Stiles.

              “Right!” She agreed cheerily, gesturing to the door. Derek rose quickly and lead the way out of the room. She had no hesitation at checking out his ass. Derek was beautiful and she had no doubt that managing to produce chemistry on screen would be easy as pie but he wasn’t a lock yet. There was far more involved to this job than just being hot. For example, he could have a micropenis. She flicked her eyes at his crotch and confirmed that that would likely not be a problem. Unless that was a sock. Which wouldn't be the first time. 

              Derek cleared his throat to get her attention and she snapped back up to face with a smile.

              “Alright then, um, well yeah, tour! You need a tour,” Stiles remember quickly and started a quick pace down the hallway.  Derek followed hesitantly behind her. She could hear his feet softly padding against the awkward, odd colored carpet. She paused at the main intersection, glancing at the closed set doors.

              “These are the four usual sets, we have a standard bedroom set, a living room, a dungeon, and a blank set that we rotate furniture in and out of as needed.”

              “That makes sense.” Derek agreed slowly. Stiles nodded and peeked at the whiteboard. Scott and Allison were in studio one, Erika was doing her thing in four, but three was wide open.

              “Come, check out the set,” She offered, pushing open the door quickly. Derek trailed behind her. The walls were black, checking off the clichés for a porn dungeon. Floggers and whips stuck out from ominous racks on the walls and chains and hooks hung from the ceiling. It was heavy, to say the least. “It’s pretty standard. Usually we have one main camera and one additional camera to get the weird angles and close ups.”

              “Why Stella? Or is that your real name?” He asked suddenly. She smirked and cocked an eyebrow.

              “Been doing some online perusing, have you?” She teased.

              “No! I mean, yes, but um, Peter, he uh, mentioned you.” Derek stuttered, and he was beautifully flustered.

              “Have you been stalking me, Derek Hale?” She asked slowly. It wouldn't have been the first time a guy showed up to apply just to fulfill some fantasy. There had even been that one guy who had proceeded to leave a dead cat on the hood of her car to punish her for kicking him out. 

              “What?” He gasped, his eyes stretching comically large.

              “Have you been stalking me?” She repeated firmly. All of the color drained from Derek’s face.

              “Of course not, Peter just offered me the job, I wasn’t being creepy and searching you out or…” Derek stuttered, pure panic on his face. That was a good sign; she probably wouldn't need that mace. 

              “Derek,” She cut him off quickly and raised an eyebrow. 

              “Yeah?” He asked anxiously, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

              “I was kidding… mostly. I don’t care that you’ve seen my videos. Kind of cool, honestly. Promises mutual attraction,” She assured him gently. It would be just like her to scare off the hottest man ever by accusing him of stalking her. 

              “Mutual?” He asked, his voice higher than she would have expected.

              “Have you seen yourself?” She asked seriously. Derek was sex walking. 

              “I don’t know how to answer that question,” Derek answered, his eyebrows crunched together adorably. This, strong, muscular man probably didn’t plan on being adorable. He was managing it despite himself.

              “C’mon, there are no humble pornstars. It takes ego to think people would get off watching you fuck,” She teased crudely. Those massive eyebrows lifted impressively.

              “I’m not a pornstar,” He grunted.

              “Not yet,” She reminded him perkily. God, she hoped he would be.

              “No, I’m not a pornstar. I’m a Dominant,” Derek clarified sternly. She liked that. She loved that. Jackson had always been a pornstar first, had always dropped character the moment the camera had shut off. It had never been anything even approaching real. Derek wasn’t offering a relationship, but he wasn’t offering a hollow show either.

              “There aren’t very many humble Dom’s out there either,” She quipped, crossed her arms. He rolled his eyes but she could swear he was smiling, just on the inside.

              “So, Stiles?” He changed the subject, apparently done with her witty banter. Which was a shame, she was witty.

              “My last name is Stilinski, my first name is utterly unpronounceable, so I go by Stiles when I’m not on film.” She clarified quickly, leaving the set and springing down the hallway again.

              “Why Stella?” He asked simply from behind her.

              “I googled girls’ names that start with ‘S T.’” Derek laughed.

              Stiles paused in front of the next door with a grin. She could have fun with this part.

_Derek_

              Stiles nudged open a plain door with her hip and Derek squinted as they walked into the dark room. Several computer monitors glowed in the dark room. A broad-shouldered man leaned over his keyboard with diligent focus.

              “Danny, this is Derek, a possible hire.” Stiles introduced chipperly. Danny looked up quickly and his eyes flicked to Derek and matter-a-factly scanned his figure.

              “Nice,” Danny announced with praise, his eyes not leaving Derek’s shoulders. It made him feel strange, though he supposed he should get used to it if he really wanted to do this. He glanced at Stiles. It was becoming more and more likely that he would really want to do this.

              “Introduce yourself Danny, you’re scaring him,” Stiles laughed happily, clearly enjoying Derek’s discomfort. God, how he wanted to spank that out of her, at least for the moment.

              “I’m Danny, I handle almost all of the tech that’s not directly on a camera here,” Danny offered helpfully. Derek nodded. He had heard of the fancy IT guy. That part of it had been covered. He hadn’t known that he was just as stupidly attractive as the rest of the employees.

              “Would you mind clearing out for a little bit? I want to show Derek some of the editing software.” Stiles explained breezily, pulling a swivel chair over to a monitor a few down from Danny’s. Danny rolled his eyes and Derek got the feeling that he was missing something. Again.

              “Sure Stiles, it’s not like I had work to do or anything,” Danny complained.

              “Thank you, coffee tomorrow?” Stiles offered with a grin as Derek sat down beside her.

              “You already owed me coffee tomorrow, Stiles,” Danny reminded her, his exasperation clear. Derek looked at the woman beside him and had to wonder what she was really like.

              “Next day, then,” Stiles offered, totally unfazed. Danny sighed, but stood anyways and moved towards the door. 

              “You owe me way more than one coffee, Stiles,” Danny pointed out.

              “Thank you,” Stiles repeated her voice nudging Danny out of the door. Danny rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him. Stiles snapped back into character in an instance, turning to Derek with a smile. He wondered what was going on behind that snarky demeanor.

              He didn’t get the chance to wonder too long before Stiles was logging in and pulling up the editing software.

              “So, most of us do at least a little of our own editing, we’re a small company with a lot of output and Danny’s busy,” Stiles explained quickly. “The software we use is incredibly user friendly, most of what we’re doing is simply splicing takes together or editing out director feedback.”

              “Okay,” Derek encouraged neutrally.

              “Let me show you an example,” Stiles answered with a grin. She typed something quickly into the search box and a video file came up. Stiles hit play with a smirk. The frame was immediately filled with Stiles stumbling into the dungeon set and kneeling down in the center of the frame. She was nude.

              Derek swallowed tightly. This woman knew exactly what she was doing and she looked at him pointedly.

              “What’s wrong with this shot?” She asked in a business-like manner. Derek blinked dizzily and looked back at the monitor. He hadn’t been looking at anything other than the naked Stiles, or Stella, he wasn’t sure which he should be using at this point.

              “I don’t…” Derek started but Stiles just shook her head.

              “Look closer,” She commanded, restarting the video, and pausing at the same point.

              “I...” He trailed off, something finally catching his eye. “Right in the last couple seconds, you can see the edge of a camera in the frame.”

              “Okay! Good, that’s a more complicated fix than I feel like getting into right now, so I’ll just flag it for Danny,” She explained, pulling up a comment bar from the side of the video. “Now, let’s keep going,” She suggested. She hit play again and the video kept going while Jack Gold entered the frame.

              “That’s Jackson by the way, don’t call him Jack, he’s a dick about that,” Stiles offered, unnervingly reading his mind. Jackson was dressed in stupid leather pants that apparently came standard for a dominant in porn. He immediately yanked Stella's hair back, forcing her head back as well.

              _“Slut,”_ Jackson admonished on screen.

              “Okay, here we should cut in the close up that was undoubtedly taken,” Stiles explained, pulling up a list of video clips. She went to one called “B Cam” quickly and rapidly found the section she wanted. There was about a three second close of Stiles’ face, her mouth was open, her eyes were closed and Jackson’s hand was just barely in the frame. “That’s perfect. You know that face took weeks to perfect?”

              “Impressive?” Derek tried, not sure what the correct response for that one was.

              “Hot, isn’t it?” Stiles pressed.

              “Yeah?” Derek agreed, not quite sure what answer she was looking for.

              “Good,” Stiles nodded, pleased with herself as she went back to the main clip. Jackson was talking again on screen.

              _“You dirty slut, you’re desperate, aren’t you?”_ Jackson taunted on screen and the sound of a crop smacking into his palm cut through the silence of the room. 

              _“Yes, sir, I need you,”_ Stiles begged passionately on screen.

              _“I will decide what you need,”_ Jackson snapped harshly _, “Stupid slut.”_ Stiles on screen flinched and looked upwards and Derek squinted. She was too much of a professional to do that on screen.

              “He improvised that?” Derek guessed, leaning closer to the screen as Stiles paused it.

              “Yeah,” Stiles confirmed and looked away. It was the first time he had seen anything resembling vulnerability on her face.

              “Can we cut it out?” Derek asked slowly.

              “Why?” Stiles asked, her expression pensive as she studied him.

              “Isolates the women, slut shaming is one thing, a turn on for a lot of women, insulting your intelligence is a second level, and takes everyone out of the moment,” He explained slowly, choosing each word carefully. Stiles nodded thoughtfully and in a few key strokes, the phrase was gone.

              _“Yes, sir,”_ Stiles was starting again on screen.

              _“Do you want my cock?”_ Jackson asked, pulling at her hair again.

              _“Yes, please sir, give me your cock,”_ Stiles begged and in the real world, Stiles quickly cropped in a closeup of her eyes watering with desperation, or pain. 

              _“No, slut, do you think you’ve earned my cock?”_  Jackson taunted. Derek really didn’t like this guy. A dominant didn’t need to be cruel to be effective. He couldn’t even blame it on a shit script; the bastard just insisted on mocking his submissive. Derek didn’t usually watch with the sound on. Now he was glad of that fact.

              _“No sir,”_ Stiles answered softly.

              _“Put on a show for me, slut. Touch yourself,”_ Jackson ordered on screen. Derek felt his face go hot. Up until now, he had managed to maintain some degree of professionalism, despite the content they were working with here. He was only barely hard. He had a feeling that wasn’t going to last long.

              _“Yes, sir,”_ Stiles agreed, nimble fingers trailing slowly down her chest. She pinched gently at her nipples, tugging carefully at the stiffened buds.

              _“Would that be how I would touch you?”_ Jackson snapped and the camera slowly panned back to Stiles, who was frozen with wide eyes.

              _“No, sir,”_ Stiles shook her head passionately. Derek’s dick was officially pressing against the zipper of his jeans. 

              “We’ve got another close up here,” Stiles offered and oh god, that was the last thing Derek need. She scrolled over and pulled a close up of her hands tugging and pinching harshly at her nipples.

              “Jesus Christ,” Derek muttered under his breath.

              “What?” Stiles asked amicably.

              “Nothing,” Derek assured her. Not like this was torture or anything. He looked away for a minute and regained his composure. When he looked back at the screen, Stiles’ hands were already between her legs, and the camera moved so her folds were in full view. “Isn’t this weird?” Derek spit out frantically, turning to look at Stiles, whose expression was perfectly neutral.

              “What?” Stiles asked blankly.

              “Looking at yourself like…” Derek trailed off, no idea how to end this sentence. Everything anyone had ever said about workplace etiquette was so far out the window that he didn’t know what he was supposed to do anymore.

              “I’m not ashamed of what I do. Nor am I ashamed of my anatomy,” Stiles stated firmly. He got the sense that this was a sticking point for her. Far be it from him to fight her on that.

              “Okay,” Derek agreed simply and Stiles turned back to the screen with a smirk.

              “Plus, this way I get to pick the angles I want,” She added. Derek barked out a laugh in surprise. Stiles hit play again, just as the Stiles on screen slid two fingers inside of herself. Her thumb was circling on her clit. Derek had to pinch his thigh to stop himself from groaning. Stiles on screen moaned lowly and Derek was a little concerned he might cum in his pants.

              He almost jumped when the camera cut away just long enough to see Jackson smack the crop firmly against her ass.

              “Let me guess, you have a close up?” Derek asked, his voice a little sharper than he wanted.

              “Of course, we have a close up,” Stiles scoffed, chuckling as she went over to the files and spliced them in. “In fact, we have two.” The two shots were of her shocked face and the red mark on her pert little ass.

              _“Sir?”_ Stiles on screen squeaked in surprise.

              “ _Keep going,”_ Jackson grunted and the strikes fell steadily over her reddened ass and thighs as her hands alternated between fingering herself and tugging at her nipples.

              _“Please,”_ Stiles begged, her voice breaking.

              “Close up?” Derek asked. Stiles nodded and smiled.

              “You’re getting the hang of this,” Stiles praised with pride, as she pulled up the clip of her face, tears streaming down her cheeks.

              _“Stand up,”_ Jackson barked on screen. Stiles stumbled to her feet and the main camera stayed on her face. _“Hold this,”_ Jackson ordered, moving out of frame.

              “Close up?” Derek asked again, unsure.

              “Not quite yet,” Stiles urged, holding up her hand and letting the video run. The camera focused on Jackson, muscle definition in full relief under the bright lights. He reached for the button on his ridiculous leather trousers and pulled out his cock. Derek cringed and looked away. He usually fast forwarded through these parts. “Get over it,” Stiles ordered with equal parts exasperation and humor.

              “What?” Derek snapped defensively.

              “Dicks are dicks. You work in porn now, you’re going to bump into some dicks,” Stiles warned him lightly.

              “God, I hope not,” Derek answered, only a little bit joking.

              “Har har,” Stiles mocked, but she was smiling so he was willing to take the win, “Penises are a necessary feature in two thirds of our videos, sometimes you might have to edit a video that contains someone else’s penis.”

              “Two thirds?” Derek asked curiously.

              “Lesbian, solo, and nongraphic videos,” Stiles provided without missing a beat.

              “Okay then,” Derek conceded and gestured back to the screen, trying to muster some modicum of professionalism when faced with a video of someone else’s penis.

              “Ask me the question,” Stiles prodded and Derek cringed.

              “There’s a close up?” Derek asked reluctantly.

              “Of course,” The camera focused tightly on Jackon’s hand stripping his cock so quickly that it looked like it hurt. The camera pulled back just in time to watch as Jackson came on her lower back and the top of her ass, it held for a moment before panning up as Jackson tied a quick knot around her wrists and hooked them above her head. Stiles muscles flexed as she apparently rose to her tip toes and as Jackson walked away, the camera panned down to the crop held tightly between her thighs. The leather tongue dangled towards the ground. The camera slowly pulled back and then panned away. Derek got the implication, the fantasy that she was still waiting there, desperate and on the edge of orgasm. He liked the implication, but it was certainly missing something.

              “That’s a waste,” Derek said and then froze. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

              “What?” Stiles turned to him slowly, watching him inquisitively. There was color on her cheeks and Derek finally had to question her unaffected display.

              “Oh nothing,” Derek shook his head quickly. Stiles didn’t budge, but a small smile played at the corners of her lips.

              “Say it, I want to hear,” Stiles pressed, earnest desire painted on every inch of her face. Derek suddenly had to wonder if any of this had been a part of the normal tour at all.

              “The crop, the crop was a waste,” Derek explained; Stiles eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

              “Why?” She pushed. Derek froze, this was wrong. This was not the time or the place. He was not here to seduce anyone, let alone Stella. He was here to be professional and do a job, a job he desperately needed.

              “I’m sorry, this was…” He started but she cut him off.

              “Derek, what would you have done with the crop?” Stiles insisted without moving her eyes, dropping her hand on his upper thigh without hesitation, the kind of thing you had to plan to do without looking. If she moved an inch, she would have her hand on his cock.

              “I would’ve put it inside of you, fucked you with it until you were just about to come and then left it there so you couldn’t forget,” Derek explained, his voice dropping an octave. Stiles’ pupils blew wide and her breathing increased rapidly.

              “Fuck,” She said softly, leaning into him as if pulled by a magnet. He was equally drawn to her, leaning close. She bit her lip and all he wanted to do was kiss her.

               The door thudded open loudly and they both jumped. Stiles squealed as her chair tipped back, clattering loudly on the ground as she rolled ass over tea kettle to somehow manage to land on her face. Derek couldn’t do anything but gape.

              “Matt wanted to know if you were done with the tour and ready for Derek to take test shots?” Danny asked nonchalantly.

              “Absolutely,” Stiles grunted without lifting her face from the floor.


	2. Shoots and Negotiation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry al, just realized that I had set this up so it looked like it was done. It is in no way near done. I am definitely adding more.

_Stiles_

              She wasn’t sure if she had ever made quite this big of a fool of herself before and it was a pretty high bar. Derek took her arm and helped her up as she avoided making eye contact. Her face hurt, but she was pretty sure that her ego was the only thing broken.   

              “You okay?” He asked and that was definitely a hint of a chuckle in his tone.

              “Never better,” Stiles groaned and brushed herself off. “Let’s get you to those test shots,” Stiles suggested. She bound out of the room to avoid Danny’s unnecessarily judgmental eyes. Derek followed silently behind her.

              So, Stiles’ brilliant seductive techniques hadn’t played out as planned, there were worse things in this world. Child labor, the feeling of drying cum, earthquakes, taxes, rug burn! Stiles could take a little embarrassment. She had plenty of practice.

              She avoided making eye contact with anyone as she led Derek to the cleared set. When she pushed open the door, Matt was standing with his back to them, camera in hand.

              Matt was kind of a creep, not with her, but he had been before Allison and Scott had announced they were officially dating. Now, Scott just glared at him a lot. Stiles felt kind of bad for the guy, when he wasn’t being creepy.

              Stiles stopped and looked over her shoulder, but Derek was hanging back in the door way.

              “Camera shy?” She teased, tilting her head towards the white sheet tacked to the wall.

              “Maybe a little,” Derek admitted and that was definitely a blush gracing those Adonis-like cheekbones.

              “C’mon, it’s easy,” She encouraged with a smile. Derek shot her a disbelieving look. “I’ll prove it, Matt. let me show him how to do it.” She instructed quickly. Matt sighed and raised his camera. Stiles practically skipped over in front of the sheet and rucked up the hem on her shirt. She looked sultrily into the camera as she fiddled with the button on her flannel. She had perfected her smile for these shots, referred to it as her jailbait grin. Matt took his shots frantically as she slowly worked her way down the over shirt. She turned slowly and rolled her neck while sticking out her ass pointedly. She looked demurely at the camera and tossed her flannel aside. Her little black camisole strap helpfully slid down her shoulder and she smirked and looked at the camera from under her eyelashes.

              “Stiles! C’mon, be an attention whore somewhere else, I gotta get these shots done,” Matt snapped, breaking her out of her zone. She ignored the insult with a roll of her eyes but stepped away anyways.

              “All you have to do is look attractive, shouldn’t be too much of a problem,” Stiles smirked and overtly flicked her eyes down Derek’s figure. Derek seemed unfazed. That was a good sign. Derek slowly walked in front of the screen as if he was heading in front of a firing squad. That was not a good sign. He glared at Matt as if he had threatened his mother. Wonderful.

              “Loosen up,” She instructed quickly. Derek relaxed his shoulders and did a weird shaky thing with his head. “You look like you want to murder us, not like someone we’d hit on at a bar,” She informed him seriously and then moved to stand behind Matt, apparently, he’d need a little coaching.  “Pull your ‘Dom’ face,” She suggested.

              “My what?” Derek asked, a little grumbly as he tried not to open his mouth. Matt sighed and put down his camera, gesturing for Stiles to get on with it. If Derek was another other actor, this would be the point where she’d give up and let him drown and move on. She wanted to believe the extra effort was because he was Peter’s nephew, not because of how badly she wanted to fuck him.

              “Your Dom face? The face you use in a scene?” She prodded pointedly.

              “I don’t use a face, it’s just my face,” Derek grumbled, glancing away and oh lord that gave Stiles ideas.

              “Jesus Christ, how do you get by in the world? Use your imagination,” She prodded.

              “And imagine what?” He grumbled obtusely.

              “A scene, a video, I don’t give a shit,” Stiles snapped.

              “I… fine,” Derek rolled his eyes.

              Derek did something bizarre and squinty with his eyebrows and lifted his chin. His jaw clenched like he was waiting for someone to hit him.

              “Nope,” Stiles sighed, shaking her head. Derek seemed to break, all quiet acceptance melting away as he huffed and slumped. Stiles tilted her head thoughtfully.

              “Stiles, we’re wasting light,” Matt reminded her.

              “Alright, fine, pick up the camera,” Stiles ordered with a wave. Derek tensed again as Stiles moved behind Matt.

              “Is the crop ribbed or smooth?” There was a flicker of surprise on Derek’s face before his expression darkened significantly. “When you dominate me will you keep your shirt on?”

              “Slowly!” Matt ordered firmly as Derek pulled his shirt off over his head, slowing showing off tightly toned abs as the soft fabric stretched across his arms. He tossed the crumbled shirt to the side and hooked his thumbs into his jeans. A hint of a blush spread along his cheeks, and Stiles felt that gleeful rush as she saw a wonderful opportunity.

              “Wait a second!” She ordered firmly before clumsily kneeling in front of Derek.

              “Um?” Derek made a noise of surprise.

              “This okay?” She asked quickly as she carefully tugged his jeans down, revealing those beautiful hip bones that the prior height had only hinted at.

              “Yeah, that’s fine,” Derek agreed. Stiles started to glance up at him but froze at the sight of the trail of hair directly at her eye level. Her mouth watered, and she licked her lips. Then she froze, realizing exactly what she was doing.  Her eyes went wide, and she lurched backwards, very nearly toppling over. Derek reached forward quickly and put his hand on the back of her head, steadying her. Stiles froze, her breath catching from her moment of fear as she looked up at Derek gratefully.

              “We’re done here,” Matt announced suddenly, clearing his throat and rapidly packing his camera.

              “What? C’mon dude we can get the shot!” Stiles protested fiercely, clumsily getting to her feet. Matt scoffed and rolled his eyes.

              “Trust me, I have the shot. I have way more than the shot,” Matt laughed as if there was something funny about this.

              “Really?” Derek asked in surprise, his eyebrows shot up skeptically.

              “Just gonna to upload them and go over them with Lydia,” Matt shrugged as he carried his camera out of the room.

…

_Derek_

              This was all very weird, but Stiles just shrugged and lead the way out of the studio and towards Lydia’s office. Derek hung back, pulling his shirt back on and taking a moment to collect himself. _Jesus Christ_ , Stiles on her knees in front of him had been a heady fantasy. Matt had beaten them there and was already sliding out of the room when they arrived. Stiles sarcastically saluted in the photographer’s direction who just rolled his eyes and kept walking.

              “Matt likes me, really,” She insisted brazenly as she pushed open Lydia’s door without knocking. “Lydia, the goddess of my life and the sun of my universe, what’s the verdict?” Derek wanted to pretend that Stiles’ blatant flattery of the beautiful red head wasn’t distracting but it did raise some very intriguing questions.

              “Derek,” Lydia started, her hands folded calmly on her desk, “Please, for the love of God, do not become Stiles.”

              “I have no intention of it,” Derek assured her, ignoring Stiles’ offended scoff in protest.

              “Good, because these photos actually look pretty good. The beginning’s a little rough, but I suspect that you knew that,” Lydia started, and Derek nodded solemnly, “But the photos taking off your shirt work well, you are clearly in excellent shape.”

              “Thank you?” Derek responded uncertainly.

              “But the photos with Stiles kneeling in front of you are perfect,” Lydia finished calmly. Derek could have sworn that he heard brakes screeching in the distance.  “We’re prepared to offer you the the contract we discussed earlier with just a few added clauses,” Lydia explained calmly.

              “What added clauses?” Derek knew he sounded grumbly but these added requirements were getting on his nerves.

              “Just basic company discipline policies. Show up on time, arrive clean and well groomed,” Lydia explained breezily, her hands folded on top of her desk.

              “Groomed?” Derek questioned uncomfortably. Stiles grinned, crossing her legs at the ankles and leaning back confidently.

              “Manscaped,” Stiles clarified, her amusement at his naiveite both irksome and endearing. Damn did he want to wipe that cocky smirk off of her face.

              “As in…” He trailed off, really hoping that he did not know what that word meant.

              “Trimmed around the goods and if your back or ass is particularly hairy, waxed,” Stiles explained, gesturing idly towards his body. “If I have to wax and laser and shave, it’s only fair that you do too.”

              “Oh?” Derek grumbled, not sure what he was supposed to say to that, and not positive that it wasn’t a joke.

              “Stiles is correct, additionally, maintaining your current state of fitness and chest hair would be a conditional feature of your contract. You can’t slack off now that you’ve got the job,” Lydia told him sternly. He nodded solemnly. Working out till exhaustion had been one of the only things keeping him from jumping off a bridge, it wouldn’t be a hard promise to keep.

              “That’s fine,” Derek confirmed cautiously, nodding as Lydia slid him the contract.

              “Additionally, at least an hour of aftercare is required after each scene,” Lydia continued cautiously.

              “Obviously, what do you take me for? Who would risk a scene without after care?” The awkward silence was painfully telling. “Wait a minute, was that what was going on before?” Derek demanded, anxiously glancing at Stiles. Peter had said that Jack Gold was jackass, but Derek never would have guessed they were that stupid. Jesus Christ, some of those scenes had been intense.

              “That’s something you and Stiles can discuss later, now, do you want to have your lawyer, or an agent look it over?” Lydia pushed on stubbornly. Derek blinked, taken back by the sudden shift.

              “No, it’s fine,” He sighed, resigned to whatever fine print Peter was going to sneak in there. He did desperately need this job.

              “You’re sure?” Lydia hesitated.

              “Yes,” Derek agreed.

              “Well then, you’re all set. We’ll want you to come in to the office tomorrow to do a short interview, strictly PG-13, no nudity, though we may ask you to take your shirt off. All I ask is that you and Stiles get together today and go over your limits so that we can forward them on to the writers. Does that work for you two?” Lydia asked coolly, sliding simple looking checklists towards them.

              “Yeah, that’s great Lyd’s. We’re gonna go get coffee and talk it over, if that’s alright with you?” The woman hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at him even as she had one hand on the contracts.

              “That’s fine,” He acquiesced. Stiles may submit beautifully in a scene but her manners in real life were sorely lacking. 

_Stiles_

              Dreamy-eyed Derek followed her patiently as she leads the way to the coffee shop. Objectively speaking, mixing caffeine with her ADHD medicine was a terrible idea. From her point of view, coffee kept her conscious. The nearest coffee shop was barely four doors down from the studio, which simply looked like a modeling agency from the outside, and most of the employees frequented the cozy, well-loved shop. After ordering (Derek took his black of course), Stiles slid comfortably into her favorite booth, Derek cautiously sliding in across from her.

              “I will never do a scene without proper aftercare,” Derek began significantly. Stiles sighed, unwilling to admit that she was at least a bit relieved.

              “Good to know, I suppose that’s one of the benefits of hiring a Dom rather than an actor,” She mused.

              “Did Jack,” Derek started, his entire body stiffening into a tight awkward line of stress.

              “I mean he wasn’t a good Dom, but he wasn’t abusive or anything, just neglectful if anything,” Stiles shrugged, Peter was a dick for agreeing to the deal and Jackson was a dick for asking for it but she could handle herself just fine. Derek seemed to accept that answer, relaxing for a moment before he froze, seeming to realize something.

              “Stiles, how often did you drop?” He asked seriously.

              “You may be a Big Bad Wolf of a Dom but that still doesn’t entitle you to my past,” She snapped spitefully. He may have been hot but that didn’t mean that he had a right to make demands of her, at least not outside of a scene.

              “It’s important so that I know how to take care of you after a scene, what your experiences are with it, so tell me,” He paused heavily, “How often did you drop?” He repeated seriously. It seemed he wasn’t going to let this go and a quick glance at the way his henley strained to contain his biceps reminded her of the goal, wall sex and ridiculously acrobatic positions and that arm working a flogger.

              “Probably every other scene,” She finally conceded. Derek’s eyebrows did some sort of complicated dance that looked like it probably felt weird.

              “Once a week? You dropped once a week?” He sputtered, only briefly trying to control his own expression before letting his anger show.

              “It really wasn’t that bad,” She insisted stubbornly. Okay, it was that bad, but she was handling it. Stiles hadn’t thought that you could angrily scoot out of a booth but somehow Derek and all his man rage managed it.  ”Where are you going?”

              “To beat the living shit out of Jack,” He answered nonchalantly as if it was completely insane

              “Woah, woah, woah, sit your ass down. Assaulting a fellow actor is definitely a firable offense.” She reminded him pointedly. This man…

              “Not sure I care,” Derek grumbled as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket.

              “Really, because typically people don’t take jobs in their uncle’s porn company unless their desperate,” She reminded him. He stiffened, and looked down as if he was ashamed. She suspected a younger Derek would have blushed, it was kind of cute.

              “That part’s right,” Derek admitted before reluctantly sliding back into the booth.

              “So, I’m assuming no college,” Stiles guessed. Derek seemed uncomfortable, which she probably should have predicted before just blurting it out.

              “Never got around to finishing my degree.  You?” He asked, oh so subtly changing the subject and taking a sip from his coffee.

              “I’m one of the few who did around here actually. Master’s degree in creative writing,” She shrugged, at the time she had been immensely proud of it and she didn’t regret it per say, she just couldn’t do anything with it.

              “Author gig didn’t work out?” Derek guessed astutely. 

              “Nah, student loans and all that jazz, now I write scripts though,” Stiles shrugged. It wasn’t the great American novel but they weren’t as bad as some other porn scripts so she had that going for her.

              “You? So, I spent all of that time arguing with Lydia when I could’ve just talked to you,” Derek grumbled bitterly and she couldn’t help laughing a little at his disgruntled expression.

              “But it was so entertaining to watch you take charge,” And hot but he didn’t need to know that quite yet, “Plus, even I can’t get you entirely unscripted scenes,”

              “Fine then, what’s the first scene?” Derek demanded. She rolled her eyes. The man just expects her to make magic with no help, does he?

              “Depends on what you write on that check list,” She reminded him, sliding the piece of paper in question in his direction.

              “Me? What about you?” Derek asked, affronted. Stiles knew that the standard thing was to pass off her checklist to her Dom so he could plan the scenes but at least for this first one, that wasn’t going to work.

              “The studio and the other writers know exactly what my limits are,” Stiles explained breezily, making a gesture as if to wave the concern away.

               “They aren’t any different with me?” Derek asked skeptically, a single eyebrow creeping closer into his hair.

              “Do you think you have special privileges or something?” Stiles asked, slightly affronted.

              “More like the complete opposite,” Derek shrugged, all self-deprecating and insecure. Was this dude sure he was a Dom? Wasn’t self confidence supposed to be a key feature? Not that insecurity worked well for subs either.

              “You’re not that strange, and hopefully in only good ways,” Stiles smirked and leaned forward and Derek looked up at the ceiling as if pleading for help.

              “Just fill out the checklist, please?” Derek asked, exasperated, though she was only just getting started so he should really buck up. Stiles just rolled her eyes and pulled out the small box of crayons left on the table from the last kids menu.

              “Are you going to fill out a BDSM checklist in crayon?” Derek asked her incredulously, his eyebrows doing some complicated asymmetrical angling.

              “Abso-lute-ly,” Stiles grinned, before focusing on the sheet of paper in front of her.

              The familiar checklist took very little time; she printed her safe word, “Sheriff,” on the top line and then moved to rest of the list: yes to blindfolds, yes to bondage, yes to gags, , yes to spreader bars, no to cages, yes to spanking, flogging, canes, crops, belts, hairbrushes, and paddles, yes to hair pulling, no to face slapping, yes to vaginal and anal sex, yes to oral, and yes to cum play, yes to beads, plugs, and vibrators, no to fisting, yes to object insertion, yes (please!) to orgasm control, no to threesomes, no to gun, knife, blood, scat, or piss play, no to fire and electric play, yes to other kinds of sensation play, no to body modification, yes to breath play,  (hell) yes to humiliation, yes to clips and clamps, and so it continued. Stiles was a kinky little shit but when she glanced up, she saw that Derek was still checking things off, so she felt better.

              He didn’t seem overwhelmed at all, so he obviously knew his way around a checklist. That was a relief at least. The last thing she needed was for the man to have been bluffing this whole time, though he certainly didn’t seem like the type. After a few heavy moments of anticipation, Derek finally looked up, his expression carefully held neutral.

              “Give me yours,” He ordered brusquely. Stiles bristled slightly at the lack of manners, what, was this dude raised by wolves? - but she handed over the paper anyways. Derek read it over calmly, and to her surprise, slid his own over. She hadn’t expected the Dom to reveal his own limits to her; she thought it would just go in the file. He read slowly; his face carefully controlled. Reluctantly realizing he wasn't going to reveal anything, she turned to his list. His safe word was written in jagged print: “Triskelion,” which was interesting, part far less so than the boxes below. They aligned with hers for the most part, though they specified no chains, which would be a shift for her normal audience, also no rape play, but he indicated a preference for crops (surprise, surprise) and predicament bondage. That was interesting. "What?" Derek grunted; Stiles sprung up, finally noticing the intense gaze the man had leveled on her. 

              "Predicament bondage?" Stiles questioned, a little excited. It was rare for her to have not heard of a kink, though to be fair, she had stopped reading the comments on her videos after someone had talked about fucking her open with a sword and “seeing how she worked.” She did have some sense of self preservation.

              "It's a niche taste, I understand," He smirked triumphantly. Okay, to be fair, it wasn’t that different of an expression, but Stiles was very talented at reading people. She waited for him to explain, but he held out, eye brow cocked as he seemed to wait for her to ask. It wasn’t the first time she had to choose between her innate curiosity and her competitive drive, nor was it a unique end. 

              "What is it?" She finally caved.

              "Bondage that requires the sub to choose between two different stimuli, while each creates some form of discomfort," Derek explained easily, with a degree of comfort that told her he wasn’t speaking of a subject he only understood in the academic sense.

              "Example?" She pressed, leaning forward and folding her hands in front of her, their coffees long forgotten. 

              "Nipple clamps attached to a chain, the chain is then connected to the door at such a height that you have to rest your weight on your toes to either prevent the pain or keep it manageable," Derek provided far too quickly, Derek’s glower turned heated quickly.

              "That is an incredibly specific example," She observed, looking at him from under her lashes in that way men seemed to like.

              “I’m a specific person,” Derek explained sanguinely.

              “What happens when I get tired? My calves are great but not that great, not that I’m not more than willing to take on the challenge,” Stiles joked, more than willing to move this from a theoretical “you” to a very, very specific one.

              “That’s the predicament,” Derek smirked and leaned backwards. Stiles had a quick flashback to the way Derek’s abs twisted and contracted when he moved in front of the camera. Damn, she wished he was still shirtless, but at the moment there were more pressing matters than his libido.

              “Was that a joke?” She asked, more than a little surprised.

              “I am capable of making them,” Derek insisted; she supposed he might seem a little miffed. She chuckled.

              “Could have fooled me,” She teased with a smirk.

              “Are you done?” Derek grunted bluntly.

              “Not quite yet,” Stiles smirked, deliberately making him wait. What could she say, she was a brat sometimes.

              “Then let’s plan that scene,” Derek suggested productively.

              “Oh, that sounds intriguing,” Stiles conceded.

              “Any preferences?” Derek asked neutrally, as if he didn’t want to influence her answer.

              “Start slow, it will get plenty of draw just from the fact that you’re a new face still,” Stiles reminded him. Not to mention, she’d definitely feel better if they started relatively slow.

              “How would you feel about overstimulation?” Derek asked carefully.

              “In what way?” She questioned uneasily. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel about discomfort and overwhelming emotions being such a large part of her first scene.

              “How many times do you think I can make you come?” He challenged with a smirk.

              “Typically, I fake it,” She smirked right back.

              “I think you underestimate me,” He guessed.

              “I think you underestimate the pressure of a set,” She reminded him, still a little concerned that Derek was going to get in front of a camera and choke.

              “But that’s part of what we’re changing, no script, no takes, just a scene that happens to be filmed,” Derek reminded her.

              “Cameras can be distracting,” She informed his seriously. Matt’s lens three inches from her face was always particularly invasive.

              “Not for someone as clearly exhibitionist as you,” Derek teased. It was Stiles turn for her eyebrows to hit her hair.

              “Was that a joke again? I feel so special,” Stiles joked.

              “I could be hilarious,” Derek suggested, a little affronted.

              “I’m sure you are,” Stiles accepted consolingly. Derek rolled his eyes.

              “How exactly are you going swap partners by the way, introduce me?”

              “Casually, tomorrow you’ll be interviewed and it will have a ‘new hunk on the block sort of vibe’ and then we’ll wait a couple days before I’ll do an interview about leaving Jack. Then, you’ll shoot a solo, I’ll shoot a solo, and then we’ll do the joint interview and introduce each other as something we’re figuring out together,” Stiles finished with air quotes.

              “Why so vague?” Derek asked

              “In case it doesn’t work out, you’re a gamble Derek Hale, but I happen to like betting,” Stiles winked obnoxiously, and Derek rolled his eyes but he also seemed to laugh on the inside so she took it as a win.

              “We should head back to the studio, give those to Lydia,” Derek suggested with a nod towards the papers in front of him.

              “Right you are,” Stiles agreed campily before leaving a ten on the table and sliding out of the booth. Derek followed her slowly. When the stepped out onto the buzy sidewalk, Stile paused thoughtfully. “Actually, lets go the shortcut, easier to get to Lydia’s office this way,” Stiles justified quickly. Derek didn’t seem to buy it, but followed her into the slightly more secluded alley way anyways.

_Derek_

              Derek wasn’t stupid or suicidal, but he was pretty sure that Stiles had a very different purpose in leading him into the alley than the time he got mugged so he was willing to go with it. As calm as anything, Stiles suddenly paused, smirking before continuing on, almost skipping with excitement.

              “I say we make it a bet,” Stiles announced suddenly and Derek had a feeling that he was more than a few steps behind.

              “What?” Derek grunted. He was ninety percent sure that any agreement with Stiles was one that he wouldn’t win. She seemed way to smart for her own good, even if it occasionally resulted with her face first on the ground. 

              “I bet that you can’t get me to come for real on set, and if I’m right…” She started quickly, clearly having thought of this ahead of time, but paused.

              “What?” He finally asked when it didn’t seem like she’d continue without prompting.

              “If I’m right, you buy me the vibrator I’ve had my eye on for a while,” She smirked, and he could resist stepping slightly closer to her.

              “Jesus Christ,” There was only one solo video of Stella on the Lobos video and Derek would seriously have issues looking at himself in the mirror if he was ever told how many times he had watched it. The thought of her masturbating with some thing he had bought her was enticing to say the least.

              “And if your right…” Stiles started, and then waited for him to finish. The idea sprung into fruition right about at the same minute that his dick fully hardened.

              “The next scene we do is predicament bondage,” He suggested stepping into her space again, she stepped back, but only slightly, and bit her lip in the most obvious come hither expression that he had ever seen.

              “Who says there will be another one?” She teased, tilting her head, and looking up at him from beneath her eyes lashes. He had a feeling that she knew exactly what she looked like when she did that.

              “I’m pretty confident,” Derek assured her, moving forward again.

              “Who knows, you might have performance issues,” She taunted, and that was the last straw. In seconds he was moving forward, pushing her up against the wall and inches from kissing her, performance issues his ass, when she rested her hand on his mouth. He froze when he saw her skeptical expression, even if she was a little breathless, “Save it for the screen, caveman.” She ordered before sliding out around him way easier than she should have been able to. He stood there, slightly stunned and stared after her as she started to walk away, her ass truly sinful in those jeans. “And you might want to take of that situation you got going on there before we get back. I promise I won’t tease you about it but I make no promises about Erika,” She tossed over her shoulder. Derek groaned and dropped his head against the brick wall in front him. Ignoring the slowly fading snickers as Stiles walked farther away.  


**Author's Note:**

> I know literally nothing about video editing.


End file.
